A Place to Crash
by niennavalier
Summary: When Captain America and the Winter Soldier turn up at the Avengers Tower for help, the first thing Tony Stark takes note of isn't exactly their well-being. Basically a slice-of-life fic from various POVs. *Accepting prompts or requests!*
1. Chapter 1

**So, basically this was another challenge from my brother: five sentences about Tony Stark's reaction when he first sees Bucky. This was written assuming Tony knows about the events of Captain America: The Winter Soldier as well as everything that happened to Bucky in Russia and takes place after Steve has presumably tracks Bucky down. Like before, I'm sorry if anything sounds awkward, but reviews would be loved regardless!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel or any of its characters.**

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A Place to Crash

Tony Stark had seen lots of unnatural things, things most people shouldn't ever see (giant green rage monsters and warring Norse Gods were only the _tip _of that iceberg, so to have two super soldiers, one technically a brainwashed Soviet assassin, show up at his newly christened Avengers tower wasn't exactly out-of-the-question; granted, it wasn't necessarily _expected_, but still, that was beside the point. No, the first point was: Cap's friend had a _metal arm_, and that was cool. Seriously, the way it shone even in the dying evening light, the absolutely remarkable dexterity down to the joints in the individual fingers, the hydraulics that had to be inside, this toy was beyond the billionaire's wildest dreams, even if it pissed him off a bit that it was so far beyond his own tech. Well, there was also the fact that the two men outside his door looked worn and sleep-deprived and the slightest bit tortured, especially the darker haired one, and were probably coming to him for help; Pepper was gonna get on his case for not thinking about that first, but she'd always been the more compassionate of them, even when he was feeling on the charitable side, as he was now (though that could've been to get a closer look at that arm). "Hey Capsicle, Anastasia, nice of you to stop by 'cause, if you ask me, this has gotta be the best place for superheroes to crash, and the great part: you don't even have to thank me."


	2. Chapter 2

**Since some reviewers gave me the idea of continuing this one-shot, I figured I'd give it a try and make it a collection of stories from Tony Stark's POV. Thing is, I've never really written him much further than the five sentences of the last chapter, so some concrit would be appreciated. Anyways, this takes place a handful of months after the first chapter (sorry it's short though), and I'd love to know what you think of me continuing this!**

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Tony Stark had been a good boy. Ever since the whole Extremis incident thing, he'd been laying pretty low (well, as low as possible considering he was in Avengers Tower, the tallest building in all of New York, designed by yours truly) and doing, more or less, the right thing. Not telling terrorists his home address or getting ten year old kids involved in international problems and, not to mention, giving Cap and his pal, Terminator, a place to stay. So, come on, didn't he deserve _something_ for all that? Sure, he didn't need the Nobel Peace Prize – though why the Avengers hadn't won that after the Loki/alien/ Battle of New York fiasco was beyond him – but some kind of recognition would be nice. Because being cooped up in the Tower was getting kind of old, even if he did have his suits, and JARVIS, and leaked S.H.I.E.L.D. info which was, on a separate note, a bit like Christmas come super early.

No, what he really wanted was something to get his hands on, a new distraction, one he hadn't already solved (and _not_ because he had PTSD, because he didn't). Like… like…

Oh, now _there_ was a worthy project. Only problem? A couple hundred pounds of World War 2 era super soldier refusing to let the billionaire take a look at his friend's brilliant arm.

"Aw, Cap, come on! Why not?"

"The answer's already no, Stark." Stubborn old geezer.

"You do get that's not a reason, right? And, seriously, you guys've been here, what, like five months? Got a feeling Tin Man's arm needs a tune-up by now."

The cogs were clearly turning in Cap's head, and Tony knew it was only a matter of time. After all, who could ever refuse him? "You got any idea how it works?"

"Hey. Genius here, remember?"

* * *

So, at the end of the day, he had to call it a success. No major injuries (because, really, he'd dealt with worse), and he got to learn quite a number about bionics. Yeah, it _did_ in fact piss him off more than he'd ever admit (good thing he never dabbled in gamma radiation); he was nowhere near this kind of stuff!

Well, _that_ was about to change. Hydra could suck it.


	3. Chapter 3

**So, I don't know if I mentioned this before, but I'm thinking this story will be a bunch of one-shots not necessarily in chronological order, but rather in whatever order I come up with them. That said, this takes place significantly after the first two chapters, well after Bucky's already recovered a lot of who he used to be. I'll probably fill in the middle at a later time.**

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Okay, so maybe Tony Stark wasn't the most moral human being around (they had Cap to fill that spot, after all). Maybe he'd slept with a lot of women (like, a lot of really beautiful women) and maybe he was a little hard to work with sometimes. But why did hell itself have to spawn in the commons? In _his_ Tower? On _his_ couch?

Alright, everyone else would say he brought it upon himself. Letting Cap and his buddy in (but, come on, that'd been charitable, right?) Letting the rest of the Avengers in too (again, charitable, and also part of the plan anyways). Telling Frosty he should get himself a girlfriend…

Hey, it'd sounded like a good idea at the time!

But now there were two ex-Soviet assassins making out on the couch, and…

Well, to be one hundred percent honest, he was kinda impressed with the Buckster, getting with Natasha and all, but, just… that's disgusting. More like, there weren't any other words. He mimed a gag he knew they both saw (assassins, duh) and hightailed it straight out of there.

Tony had seen more than enough to scar him for life, because aliens and terrorists and human bombs tended to do that to a person; still, he didn't want this occasion to join that list.

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**A/N: Yeah, I just had to do this. Bucky and Natasha are my favorite couple right now, and I figured I'd work them into this story since the chapter fic I'm working on won't allow that, so don't be surprised if they show up again together in later chapters. And still experimenting with the style, so reviews would be lovely!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Yeah, I know I said I'd fill in the middle, but my brother gave me this prompt and it wouldn't leave me alone. I promise I'll get to that eventually though. So, this was supposed to be seven sentences, but that obviously didn't happen. Oh well. And reviews or concrit are much loved(especially because something about the narration here seemed kinda off...hmm). **

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Oh, god, this was just too good, like, completely brilliant kind of good. Because, as if insulting Cap about his showgirl days wasn't enough (which it never really was; there was a real wealth of hilarious stuff out there) getting the chance to poke fun at everyone else crashing in his Tower was just the icing on the weird superhero cake. Looked like Bird Brain's turn today.

"Stark?"

"Hey, Bullseye." The archer rolled his eyes… tired of the nicknames? Nah. "Lover's spat with Natasha?"

"You know she's with Barnes."

"Don't remind me. That's just inconsiderate." He well near gagged again. Gross.

"Yeah, wanna know what else is? Using JARVIS to wake someone up at three in the morning and demanding they come to your lab without bothering with a reason."

"…It's three?"

"Pepper's not here I guess."

"Hm? Oh, yeah, I have noticed the considerable lack of coffee deliveries."

"You're unbelievable."

"I know." He swiped a finger across his tablet, projecting the video onto the larger screen on the wall. "So was this."

Moment of truth. And… play.

Tony watched, barely containing his justified laughter as Clint's eyes widened comically, jaw dropping at the ridiculous lyrics. The resident genius only wished he'd thought of it himself. Comedy gold right there.

The last high note of Cap's old forties theme song blared, and he suddenly found himself face-to-face with the SHIELD (ex-SHIELD? Whatever) agent gripping the front of his shirt. And, yeah, that was kind of scary, vengeful master assassin and all. Good thing this wasn't Black Widow; she'd already have his head. What'd happen then?

"Don't you dare tell anyone about that. Got that? Unless you don't like your head attached to your body." Good to know Clint was forgiving.

"Not a word to anyone, I swear." His shirtfront was released as a sleep-deprived, pissed-off Barton stormed off, seeing too much red to notice the smirk forming on the other's lips.

After all, he had said he wouldn't say a word, right? That didn't mean someone couldn't "coincidentally" find Hawkeye's Theme Song still pulled up on the browser, did it?

Well, he never claimed to be a good host; Pepper was better at that anyways.

* * *

"Stark!"

"What?! I didn't say anything!"

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**Yeah, this is a real thing; I couldn't have made it up. Seriously, if you haven't seen it, go look it up on YouTube, if only because it's hilarious and this chapter will probably make a little more sense. Oh, and sorry if Clint might've seemed kinda OOC. He's another one I've never written, and, well, sleep-deprivation does do some odd things. Or at least that's what I figured.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** **Gah, so sorry for not posting in forever, so in return, I've got some longer chapters coming up. Plus, I'm changing this story so it's not just from Tony's POV, but extends now to pretty much anyone living in the tower. That being said, I'll be listing in the author's note whose POV we're seeing at the start. So, here we have Bucky's POV, shortly after he would've gotten together with Natasha. And, this is actually a part 1 of 3 or 4, all of which are going to be from his standpoint.**

**Just FYI: I've been bitten by the Peggy/Daniel bug, so it'll be seeping its way into this chapter and the next at least.**

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Sometimes, Bucky felt a little bad for Steve. Yeah, the kid was Captain America now, and the weight of the entire world did actually rest on his shoulders, but it wasn't really about that. That, he could handle, oddly enough. Nah, it was more on a personal level. From when they were kids in Brooklyn, Steve Rogers didn't say when things were wrong. Probably convinced things like that didn't hurt or somethin'. Needless to say, it pissed Bucky off then. Not that things had changed now, either. Sure, he claimed that he was perfectly fine and "Buck, quit worrying about me; we got you back to yourself, and the world isn't ruled by some alien race. I'm okay." But…

Bullshit. Complete bullshit.

For Christ's sake, Bucky wasn't blind. Okay, yeah, according to Nat, Steve was a lot happier now that the whole Winter Soldier fiasco was over, but Bucky knew his friend, probably even better than the little punk really knew himself. He'd caught him more than once looking through the old SSR and SHIELD files. Sometimes it was the stuff on the Commandos, and the two of them might sit together and reminisce the good times (at least until Tony came in to break up the "love fest", as he liked to call it). Honestly, Bucky'd be lying if he said he didn't miss them at all, though. Even Dum Dum Dugan, the old bastard. Who cared what Stark thought?

Thing was, the Commandos were obviously not the only ones Steve missed.

Bucky knew how to evade topics. He'd been doing it a whole lot since he came here. Get rid of the guilty look. Switch topics, pick something the other guy clearly wanted to hear. Lead them outta the room to hide the evidence. The list of tactics didn't really end. And Steve had mastered them all. Course, he'd tried to pull the same stunts when they were kids, but he'd gotten a lot smoother with the delivery since then. Didn't matter though; Bucky knew how to see past that stuff, and it only helped that they'd been friends for ninety or so years.

There were those days Bucky wandered into Steve's room, finding his friend with file in hand, only to get ushered promptly out, to which Bucky complied without question. Although that far from meant that he didn't expect a thing. Steve wasn't gonna tell him anything anyways. Just meant was gonna find out for himself.

He was a spy after all, so he was gonna spy. Get some data and that kinda stuff. It wasn't that hard to wait 'til Steve was out on some Avengers business or other and he could get into the room without obstacle. He had to hand it to Steve, though; he'd gotten good at hiding stuff, compliments of Stark. Hidden compartments in the walls, damn near impossible to see amid the stainless steel of the interior. But clearly not Barnes-proof. Couple minutes and Bucky had his hands on the mysterious file, leaning against the wall, speed reading through the pages.

Things were starting to make sense. Two folders: one for the Commandos, and the other one for Carter. Peggy Carter.

Steve's old flame from the war, now living on the other side of the Atlantic in England, confined to a nursing home. Clearly still the woman he loved. And for good reason. Aside from the fact that Bucky knew she'd been badass and more than capable during the war, the file said a lot, too. SSR agent, founding member of SHIELD, and its first director. Hard resume to not admire. No wonder Steve had a thing for her.

Although from the looks of it, other people did too. Really, Bucky would've too if not for the way she'd completely overlooked him that night in the bar (or, at least as Steve had told him. Things were still kinda fuzzy there. Damned HYDRA and their memory-erasing shit). The file – plus some outside research thanks to JARVIS and Stark's frankly ridiculous stores of information – said a good amount on her private life. Married a few years after VE Day, another SSR – and later SHIELD – agent. Bucky wanted to feel cheated for Steve's sake, but it turned out to be more difficult than he'd expected. This guy, Sousa, he was a good guy. War vet like them, lost a leg in the European theater. Held hostage in a HYDRA base that, coincidentally, the Commandos had liberated sometime in early '44, before getting sent back to the States. Honorable discharge. Brought into one of the highest levels of SHIELD right before he married Carter. Objectively, everything about their marriage looked perfect, and a few of their kids and grandkids and nieces and nephews and such still hung around New York – Manhattan, even. Couple more down in DC, too.

Which probably made it all the harder on Steve. Hell, it was upsetting Bucky. Dumb punk was reading what his life with Carter _could've_ been like, had shit not gone down the way it had at the end of the war. And Steve wasn't gonna move on, not on his own. He was gonna go and pretend like he was perfectly fine with all of this and refuse all help and get nowhere in this; it was the way Steve Rogers dealt with stuff.

And Bucky wasn't about to let that fly. Hell, no. Steve'd helped him out when he needed it, gotten him together with Natalia on top of that. Time to repay some favors.

* * *

Plans were, luckily enough, laughably easy to come by. No harder to begin to execute either. Bucky was no stranger to tactics, after all. One random night after a particularly peaceful (well, relatively peaceful) couple of weeks, he put his plan into action, pretending to read over some of Stark's files on the early incarnation of SHIELD and "stumbling upon" some mentions of one Director Carter before calling Steve up to his room via JARVIS.

"Hey, Steve, I'm assuming you've heard about this whole SHIELD Director Margaret Carter thing?"

Out of his peripheral, Bucky could catch Steve tensing ever so slightly at the mention of the name before answering. "Course. What makes you ask?"

A shrug. "Nothin' much." Aimless rocking back and forth in the office chair. "Hey, you two ever get that dance?"

"What?"

Bucky wanted to roll his eyes. "Come on. Don't you dare go pullin' that shit on me. That night in the bar, right after you went all hero and singlehandedly rescued our entire division. Carter looked right past me, said that she might even, when this was all over, go dancing," Bucky pulled his best impression of an English accent. A little insensitive? Maybe. Probably. But Steve'd clue into the larger plan Bucky'd started concocting if he acted anything less than normal.

So he'd gone with being a little shit. 'Cause it wasn't all that hard to pull off. And it was pretty normal for anyone who knew him.

Steve just raised an eyebrow, amused. "That's a terrible British accent, Buck."

"A: no it's not. And B: you're avoiding the question." Bucky paused a second, crossing his arms obstinately. "C'mon, Steve. I'm gonna keep buggin' you 'til you answer, you know."

For a while, neither said anything, something of a battle of wills ensuing. But Bucky wasn't gonna lose this; he'd had to deal with all the crap Steve pulled since back when they were kids. Nevermind he didn't remember all those times, per se; that wasn't the point. The resident eggheads said he'd probably get all that back eventually anyways. Sure, that kinda pissed him off, but it wasn't really at the forefront of his mind at the moment.

Eventually, Steve cracked, rolling his eyes in resignation. "No, never got around to it. Happy?"

"Will be when you are." Bucky sprung from the chair, leaving his friend dumbfounded in his wake, purposefully walking from the room, down the long hall.

"The hell are you doing?"

He turned back around, continuing on backwards, huge grin in place. "Makin' sure you get that dance. Think you've left Carter waitin' long enough."

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**A/N: Part 2 will hopefully be coming soon! Please please please, drop me a review or anything; it seriously keeps my juices flowing, and I'd really love to know how I'm handling narration. Plus, I'd hate to start doing that "I won't post until I get ten more reviews" thing. Never been a fan of that.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: So, the chapters have been getting longer. Cool. And pretty self-indulgent, too. Fun. Anyway, this is part two of this four-part mini-arc and still from Bucky's POV, except for a part in the middle. Hopefully the switch should make enough sense. And, just a little shameless self-advertising, I'd love if anyone would check out my and my friend's**** neglected little fic, _Steve is a Weredog; What Do We Do?_ Thanks, all, in advance!**

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Bucky knew he'd really committed to this thing when he'd decided to brave talking to Stark. Yeah, he had to be a little thankful to the guy for letting them all crash there, but it didn't mean he had to like him, too. He didn't inherently dislike the guy, but something just kinda rubbed him the wrong way. Sorta like Howard had, the first time they'd met.

Arrogance must've run in the family.

So, normally, Bucky wasn't gonna deal with Stark's shit, not even for all the billionaire's cash. That was just a hell of a lot more than he wanted. But this was for Steve. _With you to the end of the line_, and HYDRA'd have to kill him before he forgot that again.

And, maybe, this was for atonement, too – for all of everything he'd done over the past decades. 'Cause, no matter how many times everyone told him it wasn't his fault, or some other crap like that, he was still the one who pulled the trigger. That wasn't gonna change. None of them really got that.

Didn't mean he wasn't grateful though. And definitely didn't mean he wasn't gonna do something to make things right, 'cause, dammit, Bucky wasn't one of those people who left their debts unpaid.

He started down the hall into the lab, idly tapping his fingers on the steel wall to his right the whole way, the reverb travelling its entire length. It'd become some kinda habit after Stark'd threatened to ban him from the lab next time he just appeared and gave him a heart attack. Yeah, Bucky hadn't really been back to himself yet, actually terrified Stark might do just that should he disobey orders, but it'd stuck.

"Stark?!" he yelled for the man, standing in the doorway of the expansive room. Again just for courtesy, because where the hell else was Stark besides his lab?

Not counting those times Pepper dragged him out for food.

Bucky swore, it was like a five year old trapped in a grown man's body. Weirder than any of the shit he'd seen. And that was saying something.

The man himself couldn't even be bothered to raise a freaking eyebrow at Bucky's intrusion, hunched over something, some ten emptied cups of coffee at his side. Low caffeine day, Bucky could only assume. "STARK!" he yelled again, more forcefully this time, and a shitload closer, delighting at the way the man jumped into the air. Damn, that would never get old.

"Jesus! Alright, that's it, Terminator. You're out of the lab."

"For what?!"

"Oh, don't you go playing innocent with me."

"Hey, I made plenty of noise. Maybe you should take your girlfriend's advice and sleep for once. Hear it helps a lot."

"It's only Tuesday. I've got no idea what you're talking about."

"It's Friday. In case you didn't know."

"Oh." A pause. "Point taken. What brings you down here?" he moved on quickly. Bastard.

"Need a favor. Somethin' for Steve."

"Your boyfriend locked out of the Wi-Fi again? It's not that hard to type in a password, you know."

Bucky rolled his eyes. "I swear to God, Stark, you keep thinking me and Steve are _together_ or somethin', and I got no problem watchin' you suffer Nat's wrath."

Stark shut up quick after that. Everyone in the Tower knew how this worked. Any of the guys make a threat, and it doesn't mean much. Bucky and Clint, who could very easily kill someone without them even realizing it, were both huge shits, and they wouldn't actually do a thing (unless of course, they were woken up at two in the morning; Bucky honestly admired Clint's fortitude in not murdering Stark on the spot). And they knew it. Natalia, though, was a different story. Didn't wanna get on the bad side of the Black Widow. Even if she didn't kill, she knew how to get her revenge in some very…creative ways. Where she'd learned that, Bucky had no idea, 'cause he sure as hell hadn't taught any of that back in the Red Room. Truth told, it was terrifying. And he loved her for it.

"Right," Stark recovered, putting on a façade of his usual arrogance, "got ya. Message received, loud and clear."

"Good." Bucky crossed his arms.

"So, what was it you needed?"

"Flight to England. Figured you had the money."

"Damn right, I do. Take the private jet if you want. Whenever you need. Just let JARVIS know." Stark turned back to his work, and Bucky took that as his cue to leave.

He hadn't moved a foot when he was stopped again.

"Am I allowed to ask what this flight's for? Or do you plan to sic Romanoff on me for that, too?"

Bucky thought a bit, choosing his words carefully. Didn't need Stark intruding in things he didn't understand. "Visiting a friend from the War." The answer was vague, but that didn't deter Stark.

"And by friend, you mean…" Stark obviously knew something – or thought he knew something – but Bucky wasn't about to even hazard a guess as to what that was.

"I mean someone who doesn't concern you," Bucky dismissed, crossing his arms. He'd been down in the egghead's lab too long, and it was starting to get on his nerves. Most people could only take Stark in small doses anyway; for him, it verged closer to nonexistent.

Something of a staring contest ensued, the two locking eyes and daring the other to give in, dark brown on steely blue. And Bucky sure as hell wasn't gonna budge. So Stark did eventually surrender, and with his usual dramatic exasperation. "Alright, fine, whatever. Hope you two have fun, gramps." But Bucky could catch the soft mutter as Stark turned back to his work, head down and hidden. "Just wanted to know if you were visiting Aunt Peggy."

Bucky wasn't quite sure if his mind was frozen or reeling at that point. "_Aunt_ Peggy?"

He'd never seen Stark spin around so fast. "Wait, you – you heard – shit."

"Yeah, yeah I did hear." Bucky moved forward again slowly, the pieces fitting together. God, he'd been stupid. Howard and Peggy had known each other probably way before he and Steve had ever met them. Only made sense they'd kept in contact after the war, too. So, then, "You knew her, didn't you? You knew Carter."

"Oh, look who's all interested now."

"Stark," Bucky warned, arms crossed and eyebrow raised, keeping his voice low and controlled.

Leaning back against the table, Stark sighed. "Okay, yeah, I did. Happy?"

"Honestly? No. I've been down here with you way too long," Bucky deadpanned, because, well, it was true. And it lightened the air. He lowered his arms to his sides, attempting to look at least marginally less threatening. Whatever the hell that meant. "You knew her well."

"Better than you or Capsicle probably think, Tin Man." Stark smiled a bit, and not one of those awards-and-cameras-and-shit types, either. Something more real, something that made him look a little less…Stark. Bucky wasn't sure if he sure be reassured or disoriented by that, but he did his damnest not to let that show. "My old man, he was –"

"A complete asshole?" Bucky quipped, smirking lightly.

"Yeah, basically," Stark replied, equally light. "Aunt Peggy, though," here he chuckled dryly, "she was somethin' else."

* * *

_New York, 1975_

_ Tony Stark liked to take apart his toys. Jarvis didn't like it all that much, though. Metallic springs, tiny hinges, other odds and ends lay spread out on the floor, just a few in the hands of the five-year-old. His lip screwed up in thought, little pieces fitting together – what it might do, he didn't really know yet. But that didn't mean much. He was being like his dad, and that's all that mattered. Maybe he didn't see his dad that much, but the boy knew he built machines, invented things. He wanted to do that, too, and maybe, just maybe, he'd be just as smart someday! Even though he knew there was no one as smart as his dad. He did miss him, though. His dad wasn't around very often, and holed up his lab most of the other times. They never really got to talk that much. Tony never knew why. He'd learned not to ask, too._

_ The doorbell rang, but the boy didn't really pay attention; Jarvis would get the door, since his dad was working upstairs and his mom was out for something._

_ His ears did perk up at the next words, though._

_ "Director Carter, Agent Sousa. To whom do we owe the pleasure?" Tony jumped up at that, running as fast as his short legs could take him. Sounds from the front door echoed through the house and to his room, but the halls of the mansion took a little longer to navigate._

_ "The pleasure is all ours, Mr. Jarvis." Some quiet passed as the adults exchanged their pleasantries. "Is Howard here? There's something rather important we must discuss with him."_

_ "Oh, is everything alright?"_

_ "Yeah, for the most part," a different male voice offered, without the proper accent of the other two, "There's just been rumors going around, something about the Soviets and –"_

_ "Aunt Peggy! Uncle Daniel!" Tony crashed into them, trying his hardest to wrap his arms around both of them at the same time, grinning at the exclamations of "Oh, hello Tony!" and "Hey there, buddy!" He vaguely heard Jarvis, too, saying something about "detaching himself from their guests' legs", but no one was about to move him. He liked it when they came over, after all. They were always nice to him and paid a lot of attention to him, too._

_ Eventually, though, he did let go, all but bounding and still grinning widely. "Can I show you my room?"_

_ Even though he asked this every time, Aunt Peggy still bent down, looking him straight in the eye with that special look she saved just for him. "Of course you may. How about you lead the way?"_

_ Tony raced back down the hall, then caught himself, remembering. Uncle Daniel had fought the bad guys a long time ago and didn't move as fast anymore. He slowed down and looked back. Jarvis hadn't followed, but the other two adults had started holding hands, slight smiles on their lips as they looked at each other. It wasn't like how they looked at him. Almost the same, but different, too. Maybe this was how adults looked at each other? But he didn't see his parents do that. Why? It was confusing. Tony didn't get it. Maybe he'd ask Jarvis later._

_ When there weren't more important things._

_ "Look!" he cried as they came to his door, throwing it open, revealing the mess of spare parts and finished gadgets littering the floor. He dropped down to his knees, grabbing his small projects at random, the adults kneeling down as well to accept the gifts thrust enthusiastically at them. Pretty soon, wind-up robots and animals of Tony's design were walking around the room, a few helicopters hovered above their head, propellers whirring, and a robot arm (affectionately called Dum-E) whirled in circles in the corner, powered on a spare battery. _

_ Tony plopped down onto his Uncle Daniel's lap, the older man smiling affectionately at the boy. "You know, you're pretty smart, kid. You want to be just like your dad? He gets to do this all the time."_

_ "Yeah!" Tony cried out, enthused by the idea._

_ "I'm sure he'd be really proud of you." With one arm, he pulled the boy close to his warm chest, secure and protected._

_ His Aunt Peggy returned, crouching at her husband's side. "And even if he's not –"_

_ "Peggy…"_

_ She stared back sharply at the use of her name as a warning, choosing not to heed it. "Even if your father doesn't seem to be, remember that we will always be proud of you, alright, Tony?"_

_ Tony nodded back happily. "Okay."_

_ "Good," she smiled warmly again. "Now what," she picked up a small something next to her foot, sparkling light back in her eye again, "might this be?"_

_ It turned out to be a spring canon, something Tony'd made tons of a long time ago. He recognized it immediately and brought out its twins. Within minutes, little, rubber balls were bounding across the room, fired off by the adults as Tony ran about trying to catch them, distinct sounds of joyous laughter echoing off the walls of the room all the while. He couldn't imagine a better way to spend his day._

_ The playtime tired him out soon enough, and Tony was back in the laps of two of his favorite people in the world, laid out and nodding off to sleep. Everything had gone quiet, and Tony looked up through sleepy eyelids at the two adults. Their foreheads were close together, eyes shut but not asleep. They whispered to each other every now and then, light smiles on their lips the whole time. They were happy. And it made him happy, too. _

_ Tony was just drifting off when he heard the door open. "Peggy? Sousa?"_

_ Sleep kept avoiding him just a little longer as his Aunt Peggy shifted to stand up, moving him from her lap more securely into her husband's. From his foggy haze, he couldn't really make out what was being said, more aware of the strong arms keeping him warm. Until he felt himself moved again, picked up this time. Not his dad. This felt more familiar. Aunt Peggy. She set him down with infinite care on his bed, kissing his forehead lightly. A few seconds later and Uncle Daniel was next to him, ruffling his hair lovingly, promising that, "We'll be back in a little bit. Don't worry."_

_ His dad didn't say anything, just leading the way out of the room, as the couple trailed behind, arms wrapped around each other's waist all the while._

* * *

Present

Bucky was dumbfounded. Somewhere in the middle of it all, his stupid brain'd decided to stop processing everything. He'd been right to make assumptions that this life she had with Daniel Sousa was a lot like the one he imagined she would've had with Steve. But this new version of Carter – it didn't fit with what he remembered. Not exactly. Yet, at the same time, it almost did. Like the pieces didn't look like they fit, until he realized the no-nonsense agent and the loving aunt were the same person. Then, there was Stark, the one part of this story he'd never expected. That was the one thing he was having more trouble wrapping his head around, honestly.

The man himself heaved out a sigh, clasping his hands together in front of him, a shade of his usual theatrics. "So, yeah, there's my story."

And what the hell was Bucky supposed to say to that? He was used to dealing with Stark with sarcasm, not sincerity. The silence wasn't any better, though, and his idiot mouth decided to fill it. "Tony – I – umm – well – shit." He scratched idly at the back of his head. "I had no idea."

"And why would you?" Stark cut him off, turning his back suddenly. "Look, I've got no idea why I told you that, of all people. Anybody asks, you didn't hear anything from me, got that?"

"Sure, yeah."

"Good." He paused, no sound but the soft noises of work. "You kids have fun over there."

Bucky turned around without a word, but didn't even get to start walking before his damned moral compass set in. Shit, he was feeling bad for the guy.

Feeling bad. For Stark. Things really were changing.

Dammit. He knew he was gonna regret this, too, but… "Hey, Stark. You wanna come with us?"

* * *

**A/N: So in case it didn't make sense, the middle flashback bit is from Tony's POV, when he's bout five years old (according to the Marvel Wiki, he was born in 1970, so I went with that). This chapter was super fun to write, and I got Peggy and Daniel in! Yes! (Cause I can only do that in flashbacks, so I'm taking what I can get). Plus, little Tony was adorable. Anyway, reviews and follows and anything really is loved!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: So I'm terrible and this is actually gonna be the last part of the mini-arc I've got going here. The other part I have planned may come later, but it didn't feel right to put next. As usual, sorry for the unforgivable delay, so here's a fairly long chapter!**  
**Oh, and you may find a bit of headcanon in here, complements of one of my wonderful conversations with raleigh-puppy. Just putting it out there.**

* * *

Bucky'd never been big on flying. Okay, correction: maybe that was kinda a lie, even he'd admit. Not counting the whole time as the Soviet Assassin/ghost/legend when he probably wouldn't've even known he was on one of the damned things, he had liked planes for a while. As a kid, back in Brooklyn and even before the move to New York. Steve'd pretty recently reminded him that his dad was a pilot in the First World War, and Bucky'd vaguely recalled watching all the planes in awe, wanting to be just like his old man. Frankly, he wasn't surprised. Every kid had the right to look up to his father. Bucky might've been frozen for a hell of a long time, but he wasn't that cold-hearted, or at least he liked to think. But then Hitler'd come around and royally crapped up Europe and, well: Second World War.

By that point, Bucky'd somewhat remembered his childhood desire to be a pilot, but then he'd also remembered growing up and realizing he didn't really want to be in a war. He was pretty sure he'd only joined up to keep the stubborn-as-hell little Steve Rogers from joining up himself.

Which had clearly worked well.

Either way, plane rides were the worst kind of hell. Getting shot at, stuck in a steel death trap just waiting to fall to a gruesome death some thousands of feet below - special training shit or not, nobody should like that. Except masochists. Which Bucky swore he wasn't.

But it wasn't just that. Flying _had_ been hell for a while. But, soon as Steve'd turned into Captain freaking America and the Commandos had gotten put together, plane rides weren't quite so bad anymore. Mostly the group of them being a bunch of little shits, laughing and joking, Dugan insisting on calling him Jimmy, and Bucky threatening to punch him in retaliation. Sure, it was ridiculous, and maybe Carter'd yelled at them all more than once (because, for the record, the Colonel was not to know that, maybe, she didn't mind it all _that_ much), but he was sure none of them would've wanted it any other way. Made the War a little easier to deal with.

And now it was all just a memory. Felt like all them should be there, not just him and Steve and Stark. Almost felt like they all were.

Fear and ghosts. Wonderful.

Didn't exactly help the stagnant flow of conversation either. Steve had his own reservations about flying - the big idiot rarely shared them, but Bucky knew better - and it wasn't like they were gonna discuss anything freely with Stark there. Problem was, Stark couldn't handle the silence, started rambling on about mechanical engineering and shit: bunch of words neither of them would've ever understood in this lifetime or the next. Or any lifetime, for that matter. Not that that deterred Stark, the billionaire talking on and on, determined to fill up the entire flight with the sound of his voice. Joy.

At least until Bucky'd decided that half an hour of Stark's commentary on...whatever...was more than enough, and grabbed some movie at random, shoving it into the genius' hands, all but demanding he played the damned thing and shut up before someone ended up accidentally dead. Inevitably, it'd worked. Slight mend in their relationship or not, Stark was still scared of the Winter Soldier, much as he played it off.

But it was still funny, the way things turned out.

Pretty damn ironic, actually.

Because, come on, Bucky'd been brought back into the world, but it didn't mean he'd had endless time to catch up on the last seventy years of pop culture. Natalia'd tried; Steve'd done his best, too, but Bucky was gonna catch up on what he wanted to, and when he damn well pleased.

Turned out, that flight was the perfect time to start.

Because that movie, well - The Hobbit. How the hell'd Bucky never known they'd made this into a movie? 'Cause, stupid thing about his shit memory, important stuff - his parents, his house as a kid - were fuzzy; the entire plot of The Hobbit - perfectly intact.

Honestly, he didn't know what to think of that. Yeah, he'd loved the book as a kid and all, but why? He had to question: did HYDRA think that was some dumb joke?

Not that he questioned it for long. Because the rest of the flight turned into an intense rant session. _What the hell? Azog's dead; what's he doin' here? And who the hell are Legolas and Tauriel?! Those aren't characters! That scene's not from the book __**who made this movie there's not even a plot, dammit!**_

Stark'd looked somewhat amused and impressed at the start; Steve'd seemed a little glad to see the friend he probably remembered (kinda worrisome though that was, in Bucky's opinion). By the end they both just looked scared. Bucky got the feeling that, by the time they got stateside again, they'd both be trying to hide the book and the other movies from him (because like hell he wasn't gonna watch the first two movies), and advising the others to do the same.

Bucky smirked as he left the plane.

He'd like to see them try.

* * *

Really, it was probably something of a relief to Steve and Stark both that the flight had been headed to England, and the fiasco regarding the movies wouldn't immediately become a problem. Because Bucky did have boundaries for himself, and as he carefully hauled his precious cargo off the jet, he made sure to reel it all back in. This trip wasn't for him, after all, and he got that. Hell, he'd set the thing up. Sure, it wasn't really originally meant for Stark either, but he didn't really have the heart to deny the man, not after their little understanding. Although that fact made him hate his moral compass more, in all honesty.

There was a car waiting (because why wouldn't there be; this was Stark, after all), and the ride after was probably short enough, though the minutes stretched long with the sound of idle silence. Unsurprisingly, Bucky made sure he was out first, all but clutching his package to his chest. There were different kinds of silences, and the uncomfortable variety didn't agree with him.

He took in a long breath of cool air. Smelled nothing at all like the bombed out cities he'd gotten far too accustomed to during the War. That was a reprieve, at least. Though the sight of the Home sent an odd feeling through him. Some sort of combination of nostalgia and disbelief. Nostalgia over the fact he was seeing Carter here, and disbelief over seeing the badass, no-nonsense, unstoppable English agent _here._

Steve joined him a couple minutes later, Stark being smart enough to give them a couple moments, talking to his driver about something or other. The nervousness was ripe enough as it was.

"You alright, Steve? You've seen her before, right?"

"Why am I not surprised you know that?" Steve chided, but the words held little spirit.

Bucky shrugged. "'Cause you know Natalia."

"Right," Steve let out a lifeless laugh, looking downward.

Bucky fixed his eyes on his friend, studying his features. Honestly, this sort of thing was coming back like second nature. Scared Bucky a bit wondering exactly how often the dumb kid had gotten himself beat up back in Brooklyn. It really was a miracle he himself hadn't already died of a Steve-and-his-stupidity induced heart attack. "Seriously, though. You okay?"

"It's just, everything we missed - or,_ I_ missed - and sometimes she doesn't always remember," the blonde glanced back up, delivering a forced smile, as if that could ever fool Bucky, "it's hard, you know?"

"Steve," Bucky laid his right hand on his friend's shoulder, grasping it comfortingly, "you know I know that. Our lives are shit. Everyone we _know_'s got shit lives. I know you and Carter had a thing, but there's nothin' we can do to change what happened. Just gotta make the best of what we've got."

"...You're gettin' wise in your old age."

Bucky used that same hand to push his friend away playfully. "You're just jealous I got both the looks and the brains."

"Very funny."

"I know I am. Thanks for tellin' me again." He smiled more widely, more openly. "Now come on. Gotta be ready for your best girl."

Bucky stepped toward the building, pausing as he noticed Steve's hesitation. He turned back as his friend spoke again. "Thank you, Buck. Really."

The ex-assassin stepped back to the blonde's side. "Thank yourself for reminding me. With you to the end of the line. Never gonna forget that again." He wrapped an arm around Steve's shoulder, ushering him closer to their destination, to Carter. "How 'bout you get ready and I fetch Stark? We'll meet you there." And with a final push, he got Steve going on his own, and, after watching long enough to ensure Steve was serious about this, he set back to Stark, finding the billionaire chatting to his chauffeur, leaning through the passenger side window. "Time to go."

"Now?"

Bucky rolled his eyes. "That'd be best, yeah."

"Fine." He tapped the top of the window, walking off casually and pulling his sunglasses over his eyes. "Good talk."

For a couple seconds, Bucky just watched, mulling something over in his head."Hey, Stark." Said man turned around. "Thanks."

"For...what, exactly?"

"Back there, what you did."

"Back where when I did what?"

Bucky shook his head lightly. Ridiculous. He couldn't believe how much he had to put up with when it came to this family. "Talking to your driver. Giving me and Steve a couple minutes."

"Ohhh," he extended the word, "that. Nah, we were just discussing the many benefits of being my chauffeur."

The younger - or older, or, whatever he was - man scoffed. "You're somethin' else, Stark. But - and you know I hate admitting this - you're a good guy. Your old man would be proud."

Tony glanced back, his countenance resembling, for a split second, the kid he'd told Bucky about down in his lab. Almost instantly, he recomposed himself, though the innocent wonder never fully left. "You're not lying to me? Because if you are -"

"I swear. I'd never lie about that sorta thing."

Stark studied him for a while longer, seeking out the lie he'd wholly expected and finding none. He straightened. "Good," was all he said before turning on his heel and continuing on.

Bucky took deep breath himself, then chuckled. His new friends - his new family - they were an interesting bunch. But things had worked out, mostly, for the better.

* * *

Honest, Bucky hadn't really known what to expect. He'd learned a little from Natalia, 'cause he knew for a fact he wasn't gonna get much help out of Steve, aside from some vague references to Carter's memory issues. From what he'd got, her condition varied. Some days were good, lucid, and she and Steve could get on and pretend like things weren't the way they were. Then there were the other days, and she'd be surprised to see him suddenly alive after so long, and apparently those were the times Steve came back from his trips just that much more withdrawn from everyone else, at least if he'd heard right.

Bucky really hoped this wasn't one of those days.

First thing he noticed was the smell. Too clean. Reeked of antiseptic and ammonia, or it did to him, at least. Stark didn't seem _too_ bothered by it, though the slight wrinkle in his nose gave it away. Steve was too lost in his own thoughts to even pay it much mind. So Bucky sucked it up, kept walking at Steve's right, forcing himself not to stare at the nurses who let them by without question, rightfully recognizing Captain America and Iron Man.

And trusting them enough to pay no notice to the other guy apparently with them, carrying a package of some kind.

Thank god for that; Bucky wasn't in an explaining mood. Besides, there was only one person he owed that explanation to.

And they were just slowing down outside her room.

As planned, Bucky took his position against the wall at one side of the door; Stark took up a similar position on the opposite side, hidden from the view of anyone inside. Left Steve in charge of opening the door. Maybe a little cruel, if it turned out she didn't remember. But if she did, well, seemed only logical to start off with a familiar face. 'Cause, who knew when she'd last seen Stark, and Bucky had a feeling she hadn't been exactly kept in the loop regarding all of that Winter Soldier crap. Best not to start there. So, Steve it was.

The punk stood there a second, taking in a deep breath, and Bucky laid a hand on his shoulder.

"You okay?"

"Yeah...I'll be fine." Bucky didn't push further. He knew the real answer anyway.

"She'll remember," he reassured one last time, the two exchanging a brief smile before the blonde poked his head cautiously into the room. His two shadows waited with baited breath.

"Peggy?"

The split second seemed to hang endlessly in the air, and Bucky swore, it was more terrifying than most of the stuff he'd had to deal with, wars and basically dying included. 'Cause this involved his friend, and his friend's happiness (and maybe sanity). Nothing had ever mattered more than that.

"It's good to see you haven't decided to let me sit here and rot alone." Bucky recognized the wit, the sarcasm, and heaved a sigh. Shit, he'd been scared. Seriously scared. Course there'd been a contingency plan that involved them all hanging around a little longer 'til Steve could explain the story again, but it wasn't like Bucky'd ever been in favor of that one. His friend had been through enough heartbreak; wasn't right for the world to keep piling it all on like it did. Honestly, not like any of them really deserved the hand they were dealt, though. All left a bunch of confused outcasts with screwed up lives.

Eventually, Bucky caught Steve's subtle verbal cue for Stark to enter the room, and the two men outside exchanged a brief glance before the billionaire straightened and strode in with his usual air of confidence, excited greetings of "Aunt Peggy!" and "Tony, it's been so long; oh, look at you!" filling the atmosphere. Which left Bucky entirely alone in the hall, nervously fingering the box in his hands with only the reassurance that it only made more sense to see the son of a friend for the first time in years than a pretty-much-literal dead man. Still, he wasn't a fan of the silence, of the stillness; he'd had more than enough of that for two lifetimes, dammit. That was one nice thing about the Tower; someone was always pissing off someone else; the days - and pretty frequently, nights - were never quiet. Maybe it wasn't Brooklyn, but it was home enough.

He wished he could say it was luck that he happened to pick up his own cue to enter, but, really, he'd probably been through too much training and shit for him to have missed it if he tried. So, a deep breath, and he was turning in, stepping slowly, keeping the metal arm as concealed as possible inside its long sleeve, and consciously reminding himself to raise his eyes, though his chin refused to raise from its position pointing at the floor. A few, painful seconds passed, no one, not even Stark, daring to speak.

Dammit, why'd he have to the one stuck with the awkward silence? Had he really not suffered enough? And for a good seventy years?

There was an almost audible sigh when Carter finally broke the silence. "Barnes?"

"Yes, ma'am." He mentally dared Stark to make some snarky comment about how he'd slipped into his old speech. None came.

"Is that actually you?"

"It is." He had a feeling his past self might given some sort of cocksure smile, or a bow, or something, at least. Not like any of that was comin' back though. Shit, how was it he'd impressed all those pretty dames?

Not that it'd ever worked on Carter, though. According to Steve, he'd tried once and failed spectacularly. So, good thing that really didn't matter all that much. Still, would've helped to be not entirely socially incompetent again.

"So, you're telling me that you fell off that train, made him," she gestured to Steve with her eyes, "attempt to drink himself half to death like an absolute lunatic, and were alive the entire time?"

He shrugged, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible. And hoping Carter wouldn't see clear through him. "Apparently."

"What is that supposed to mean, 'apparently'? I think I deserve to know how this happened."

"It's a...long story."

"Does it look to you like I'm going anywhere any time soon?"

Bucky looked over at Steve, actually smiling. "I'm remembering now why you liked her so much." Because, really, Carter hadn't changed a bit. Older and maybe her mind wasn't always one hundred percent there, but when it was, almost like not even a day'd passed. As if they'd all survived the War (the normal way, at least) and were all just meeting to reminisce and have a little fun.

Which reminded him…

"Problem is, we're not here for me," he segued, partially just glad he didn't have to explain everything at that moment. 'Cause, no matter how much further in the past it was, or how much he "healed", as Steve liked to say, it wasn't like he'd ever be comfortable with what he did those seventy years. No one should be; anyone who said otherwise was lying their ass off. "I mean," he went on to amend, setting down his precious cargo on a side table, careful all the while to hide his left hand behind the shield of his body. "If you really wanna know," he looked nervously to Steve, who nodded slightly in encouragement, "I guess I can tell you all that later. But for now," he opened the box, carefully extracting the treasure inside, "I think that idiot over there owes someone a dance."

A record player. Complements of Stark, who'd somehow tracked down and bought the thing as soon as Bucky'd mentioned his plans. Where he'd found it, or how much it'd cost, Bucky had no idea, though it wasn't like he hadn't asked. Except all he'd gotten was "not to worry, Buckster. I've got some cash to spend. Might as well save the day with it. You're welcome." Times like those was when Bucky found himself liking the Stark family a little more. Just a little, though.

Throwing a quick glance over his shoulder at the opposite side of the room, he found Steve, his arms wrapped gently around Carter's shoulders, guiding her up and supporting much of her weight as he eased her off the edge of the bed, his lips moving ever so slightly in hushed whispers Bucky couldn't hear. Stark was right there, too, hand awkwardly jutted out a little, like he wanted to help but didn't know how.

Well, it was the intention that counted.

Bucky turned back to his own task, reaching into the box again and extracting the black vinyl from its sleeve, fitting it into its rightful place. But before turning on the power and setting the needle on the spinning surface, he looked back again, originally meaning only to see if the two lovers were ready for their dance.

Steve supported most of her weight, though it was clear that Carter was still the one in charge, instructing him on arm position, posture, feet. Things really hadn't changed at all. Bucky grinned in spite of himself, turning back and setting down the needle, letting the slight scratching turn to music.

The trumpet solo blared to life, and Steve's head shot up, seeking out Bucky, who only shrugged a shoulder and let one corner of his lip pull up in response. He could only assume Steve recognized the song; really, he'd be amazed if the punk _didn't _know it. Came out just the year before he'd gotten his orders, and he'd probably danced to it with quite a number of beautiful dames, but hell if he knew if that was actually true (he only had Steve's account to really go off of, after all). Pretty song, not like those quick swing pieces, and Bucky vaguely remembered the couples getting together for this one, dancing until the very end of the night together, a nice close for the evening. Probably symbolic, with finally finding love, and all that. And something about that just felt right for this, Bucky had to admit, even if he was just working with a few fuzzy memories. Still, he had to feel a little proud about this.

Besides, Steve was sure to get past the initial discomfort. Or, at least, Bucky was gonna make sure of that. Flicking his gaze quickly in Carter's direction, he forced Steve's own eyes back to his girl...and down to the floor, soon enough. Bucky almost wanted to roll his eyes, though he refrained from doing so; he swore, if Steve didn't stop overthinking his own missteps and ended up not getting the whole "magical experience" thing he was supposed to…

Well, the kid was getting dance lessons, no doubt about that.

But, at that moment, the lyrics started, and Bucky could see as the tension started to melt away from his friend's shoulders.

_At last_

_My love has come along_

_My lonely days are over_

_And life is like a song_

Yeah, Bucky'd known he'd picked right.

Stark sauntered over then, stopping at Bucky's right and mimicking his position: leaned back against the wall, arms lightly crossed, eyes fixed on the happy couple. "Think we should tell your pal he's a terrible dancer?"

Bucky smirked. "I'm disappointed, Stark. Beat you to that one by seventy five years. Maybe more."

"Well, at least I'm not legally a senior citizen."

"Hey, I'd say we all look pretty good for our nineties." He paused, inclining his head. "'Specially her."

"Can't argue with you there, Tin Man."

At that, both men turned back to the dance floor, Bucky pleasantly surprised to find that both Steve and Carter had closed their eyes, smiles painted on their lips as they swayed to the melody. Maybe not really dance by the most technical definition, but it wasn't like that mattered.

They were together. And _happy_ together. For the first time in decades. The way they were really meant to be.

And that was all Bucky really cared as the last of the lyrics swept through the air.

_For you are mine at last._

* * *

**A/N: By the way, the song there is called "At Last" and was written by Mack Gordon and Henry Warren and first heard in the 1942 movie, "Orchestra Wives". There's also a version from the 60's by Etta James, which was a pretty big hit. From my understanding of it, the song was actually used for the last dance of the night during the war years, because of the whole idea of finally finding love, like Bucky said. If you wanna listen to it, here's the version I used as reference: watch?v=r27Oow49LSU **

**Now, a semi-important announcement. School's starting again really soon, which means the murder of my writing juices and my time. So all of my stuff on here may seem even more dead than usual. I'll still be writing, but maybe not as often, and posting even less. I'm really sorry, but hopefully I'll be back sooner rather than later!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Because I needed BuckyNat fluff. Based on an idea from an irl friend, and I made an attempt at Natasha's POV this time. Oh, and for reference, I'm using a lot of stuff from their comic book relationship. Hence the use of James and Natalia. Hope y'all like it!**

* * *

Natasha Romanoff was wary of dates. She always had been, and she always would be. With the KGB, romantic engagements were opportunities for undercover operations and assassinations. With SHIELD, it hadn't been much different. But now, with James - at least something had changed.

Things had been starting to get a little boring, honestly.

It had all started after their reunion make-out session on Stark's couch. They'd both been curled up, watching some crappy TV show or another, when James had suddenly announced that they'd never had an actual, real date. For all their time in the Red Room together, all that secrecy behind closed doors meant it didn't really count to him. Aside from the fact she'd been engaged to marry, at the time.

And so, putting on a mischievous smile and pulling on that old charm Steve had warned her about, he asked her if she'd give him that honor. To which she replied that, yes, she would go out with her idiot, despite how frivolous the whole venture sounded. And then they were quite enjoying each other's company when Stark himself walked in a few minutes later.

The next week, they tried this first date thing.

And the next week, too. And the week after.

Really, neither of them were that surprised. Halfway through a movie, and there was a hostage crisis just north of New York City. Ten minutes into laser tag, and Fury had caught wind of a planned assassination attempt on the head of the Pentagon. Opening the door to a dance hall, and she had to answer a call from a very terrified Stark running for his life from a very pissed-off Banner.

James had been tempted to leave Stark to fend for himself. So had she. In the end, they only went back to make sure they still had a place to sleep for the night. After all, what was the point of abusing Stark's hospitality if there wasn't any place to actually take advantage of?

In the end, Stark apologized with his usual cavalier air. Bruce was more genuine in his apology, offering the fact that, statistically speaking, their first date should go off without a hitch sometime soon.

Funny how that didn't make her feel any better about their chances.

Still, James was adamant about things going right. She didn't really see the need anymore - everyone in the Tower knew about them, and it wasn't like they needed to prove anything to each other - but she wasn't about to stop him. It wasn't like she didn't enjoy the attempts, and it was, she had to admit, just the slightest bit cute to see him try so hard.

Shortly after the incident which had cut short their third first date, she and James cornered Stark, threatening him into booking them a reservation at the most expensive place in town. Now, looking up at the high, vaulted ceilings and chandeliers and every table and groups of rich people showing off their wealth, she knew this wasn't really her kind of place. It wasn't James' either, though she suspected they were the only ones who knew that about each other, with the practiced ease they both wore.

She caught his eye as the waiter finally left. "You know, this probably wasn't worth it for revenge. Doubt this even put a dent in his pocketbook."

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Yeah. Didn't realize that 'til after though."

"Shame. There are far more entertaining ways to get revenge." She smirked across the table. "You're making this boring."

That smirk only grew to a full smile as he rose an eyebrow. "I'm boring?" He reclined, arms crossed. "I didn't need to set this up."

"And, for once, you're right." She leaned back, mimicking his posture. "Mr. Our-First-Date-Has-To-Be-Perfect."

"Well I'm sorry for trying," he laughed. "I'll make sure I don't when it comes to the second date."

"And I really appreciate that," she deadpanned in return.

At which point all hell broke loose.

Gunshots. People screaming. Ten men dressed all in black storming through the entrance. "Вы не получаете за это время !"

Natasha couldn't help but roll her eyes.

Both she and James were on their feet, headed to the pillars at the side of the room for cover, yelling for everyone else to get out. Those men weren't here to kill innocents, but they wouldn't mind the casualties.

They both knew that from experience.

"So," James ventured, the two of them waiting for a few moments behind the cover of the pillar, side by side, "how many of these guys you think they're gonna send before they realize neither of us is goin' back to Russia?"

"Hard to say. But they came all this way. I don't see why we shouldn't humor them at least."

The fight didn't last long after that. These men, they were trained, but nowhere near well enough, despite their numbers and their guns. Dispatching the last of them with a swift kick to the head, Natasha took in the overturned tables, the shattered chandeliers, the bullet holes in the walls.

"So, same time next week?"

* * *

**Translation (At least according to Google Translate. If anyone knows better, feel free to let me know and I'll fix it!):**  
**Вы не получаете за это время ! - You're not getting away this time!**  
**Reviews make me happy!**


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